The Three AM Booty Call
by DizzyDrea
Summary: She might have protested the ungodly hour of the phone call, but she knows—deep inside, in that place where Callen's taken up residence—that she'll never turn him down. And the next time she makes the three AM booty call, she knows he'll welcome her in.


Title: The Three AM Booty Call  
Author: DizzyDrea  
Summary: She might have protested the ungodly hour of the phone call, but she knows—deep inside, in that place where Callen's taken up residence—that she'll never  
turn him down. And the next time she makes the three AM booty call, she knows he'll welcome her in.  
Rating: M (not kidding here, gang)  
Spoilers: The Gold Standard  
Author's Notes: You just knew it had to happen, what with the crack Kensi made in _The Gold Standard_, that _someone_ was getting the booty call. Muse knew just what to do with that, too. 'Nuff said.  
Disclaimer: NCIS and NCIS: Los Angeles and all its particulars are the property of CBS, Paramount, Donald P. Bellisario, Belisarius Productions, Shane Brennan, Shane Brennan Productions, and a lot of other people who aren't me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

The ringing of the phone shatters the cold quiet of the night. Kensi Blye's arm shoots out from beneath a mountain of blankets, hand scrabbling on the night stand for the offending device.

She brings the phone close, eying the display with suspicion and displeasure, even if she knows who's calling. She'd assigned that ringtone ages ago, knowing that only she and her not-so-mysterious caller would be the only ones to know.

Still, she's frowning at the screen, even as she presses the button to accept the call.

"Do you know how late it is?" she grumbles into the phone.

"And hello to you, too," her caller says, gentle humor lacing his voice.

Kensi sighs. "I know why you're calling."

She can almost hear the eyebrow raising. "You do, do you?"

"It's—" she glances at the clock beside the bed. Yep, she knows exactly what this is. "It's three am. Why else would you be calling?"

"We could have a case," he suggests.

Kensi snorts, rather unladylike, but she doesn't think her caller will complain; he knows her far too well. "Do we?"

His chuckle dances down her spine, tingling in all the right places. "Touché."

"So, to what do I owe the honor of this call?" she asks archly. She knows, of course she knows, but she wants to make him say it. It might be three am, but she's still got her dignity, after all.

"You have to ask?" She sighs, quietly, tasting defeat. He must have heard her, though, because he sighs in answer. "I want to see you. Tonight."

It's not the admission she's looking for, but it's close enough. "Yeah," she says on another sigh. "Where are you?"

She hears a faint knock on her front door. Of course he's already there. She presses her head back into her pillow. She'd lament being so predictable, but the truth is that she wants to see him, too, and she's woman enough to admit when she's been played oh so well.

She crawls out of bed, tugging the t-shirt she'd worn to bed down as far as it'll go. It's his shirt—of course it is—so he'll know that she was thinking of him just as much as he was thinking of her. She stumbles through the late night darkness of her condo; the place is still new to her—she moved in not long after solving her father's murder, because there was no way she was going back to her old apartment—so she hasn't quite learned where all her furniture is. It's not the first time she's made this trek, but she's still sleepy, clutching the phone to her ear even though they're not talking anymore.

When she finally reaches the door, she tugs it open to find G Callen leaning against the doorframe, his phone dangling from his fingers. He's smiling at her; it's not quite a smirk, but she's still not awake enough to see the humor in the moment.

"You're insufferable, you know," she says, shuffling back as he saunters in, the door giving a muffled click behind him.

"And yet you let me in anyway," he says.

He tucks his phone into his back pocket and sidles up to her, one hand slipping around her waist as the other plucks the phone from her unresisting fingers. He ends the call and tosses the phone onto the couch.

"Callen—"

Whatever protest she was about to make dies in her throat as he sweeps her into a kiss. And it's no mere kiss; that she might have been able to resist. Callen doesn't kiss with just his lips, and he never has. It's a full body kiss, his body molding itself to hers so that every point of contact sends shivers through her. She can feel this kiss all the way to her toes as they dig into the cut pile carpet of her living room.

She barely registers when he starts to nudge her across the room, expertly dodging her furniture as he guides them to her room and the comfort of her queen-sized bed. She's a little jealous that he's better at navigating through her condo at three in the morning than she is, but that doesn't stop her from kissing him back.

His hands have started roaming, skating over skin flush with arousal, setting fire to her everywhere they touch. This, more than anything, is what finally gets her with the program. She begins tugging at his clothes, leaving a trail behind them as they finally—finally—make it to the bedroom.

They tumble onto the bed, a tangle of limbs as lips and hands and teeth and tongues explore oh so familiar territory. She'll complain up one side and down the other that he woke her up from her much-needed beauty sleep, but she's not going to miss this, the feel of his body pressing into hers, the way he finds every one of her most sensitive spots. It never gets old, even if they have done this before, too many times to count. It's precious to her, the way he knows her body, the way he knows _her_, and the only way she can repay that debt is to show him the same care. It's a dance they know well, and one she delights in each and every time. And if Kensi's still wearing Callen's shirt as they drive each other out of their minds, well, she knows he likes the way it looks on her.

Eventually, she pushes him over onto his back, smiling down at him with mischief dancing in her eyes.

"Oh, it's like that, is it?" he murmurs, his hands tracing patterns on her skin that only he understands.

She raises her eyebrow at him even as she straddles him, sinking down onto him in one smooth move. "This was your idea."

"Yeah," he says on a sigh as she bends down to kiss him, her hair falling around them like a curtain.

She settles over him, relishing the feel of him around her, inside her. His hands sneak up under her shirt to caress her skin as she begins to move. She sets a languid pace, not too slow, not too fast. Despite the fact that it took her a little bit to get on board, she wants to enjoy this moment as long as she can.

It would seem that Callen has other ideas, though. His hands settle at her hips, and he begins to push up into her, moving faster now, pushing her closer to the edge. She watches him, sees the pleasure suffuse his features, smoothing out the lines and draining years from him. She still feels privileged, all these years later, that she's the one he chooses to show this face to.

All at once, she's tipping over the edge, hardly realizing that she'd been rushing up to that cliff until she was thrust over it. She keeps her eyes open, the better to watch Callen as he tumbles over the edge right behind her. His face is blissed out, the goofy smile one he only wears here in this room. She collapses onto him before rolling to the side, breathing deeply as she tries to calm her raging heartbeat.

Callen lifts the covers and helps her settle under them, joining her and pulling her close as he drops a kiss into her thoroughly mussed hair. It's quiet in the room for a few minutes, the only sounds their labored breathing.

Finally, Callen's recovered enough to speak. "You just had to make that crack about the booty call, didn't you?"

Kensi buries her face in his chest. "Like you're the only one who's ever made one." She pauses, then pushes up on an elbow. "Or taken one."

"Point taken," he says, slipping a hand over her cheek to tangle in her hair. He tugs her down, placing a gentle kiss on her lips before pulling back. "I love you, Kens. You know that, right?"

Kensi rolls her eyes. "Three AM booty calls notwithstanding, yeah, I know." She leans down and kisses him equally as gently, muttering her own endearments into his lips. "I love you, too."

She settles down at his side once again, sighing contentedly. "But if you call me for another three AM booty call in the foreseeable future, I will kill you."

Callen chuckles, kissing her head once again. "I'll try to resist."

She closes her eyes and listens to his breathing even out as he drops away into sleep. She's content now, but she knows she won't get to sleep right away. Callen rarely spends the night, so she tends to savor the moments he's there, in her bed, sleeping peacefully.

She has no idea why this thing with them works, but it does. He's still got his place, and he only comes over a couple of times a week—usually at a more reasonable hour. He keeps his house because he needs the space, someplace to retreat to when it all becomes too much. He's a loner by nature, stressed out by the crush of people in his world from time to time. She knows that and doesn't take it personally. It's never meant that he doesn't want to spend time with her, only that he has no need to spend every waking moment with her.

Truth be told, Kensi's been taking care of herself for too long now to let someone else do it for her, so Callen's independence suits her fine. But, on nights like tonight, she delights in the chance to just be together, awake or not.

She might have protested the ungodly hour of the phone call, but she knows—deep inside, in that place where Callen's taken up residence—that she'll never turn him down. And the next time she makes the three AM booty call, she knows he'll welcome her in.

It's unconventional, but it works. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

~Finis


End file.
